Home For Christmas
by Fenlaur
Summary: Making it home for Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Fenton, watch yourself. Don't step there. Watch that cord, you might trip over it. Fenton, _watch out_!"

Fenton Hardy rolled his eyes and jutted his jaw.

The next-door neighbor laughed as he shoveled his walkway.

Gertrude Hardy stood on the Hardy's front walk and was aiming her words at her famous brother, private investigator Fenton Hardy, who was on the roof of their house, stringing up Christmas lights. Weather and business had prevented them from putting up the decorations sooner.

Fenton Hardy stomped across the roof, the end of a string of lights clutched on one hand.

"_Fenton…"_ came a warning from the ground.

"Gertrude, stop it," Fenton said as he stepped closer to the edge, frowning.

"But Fenton…_FENTON!" _Gertrude Hardy let out a shriek that made the neighbor jump.

There was a gasp and a moment later a thud came from the side of the house.

Raymond Weideman's shovel clattered to the pavement as he ran in the direction Gertrude Hardy was already scurrying in.

"Oh, call an ambulance! Someone, call an ambulance," wailed the spinster, wringing her hands as she stood over the body of her younger brother who was lying facedown, unmoving in a pile of snow.

Weideman was about to turn to do so when the detective began moving. He watched as his neighbor pushed himself up on all fours, his head moving back and forth. A gasping noise escaped his lips.

Weideman turned at the sound of running footsteps and Laura Hardy came into view, her arms wrapped around her body in a futile attempt to stay warm.

"What happened?" she asked worriedly, immediately spotting her downed husband.

"He fell off the roof," Weideman explained. "But I think he's just got the wind knocked out of him," he hastened to add when he saw her expression change to one of horror.

It took a few minutes for the detective to catch his breath. Weideman helped him to his feet.

"I told you to be careful, Fenton Hardy, and now look what happened! You-"

"Gertrude, go inside," Fenton said.

"You're not going up there again are you-"

"I'm almost done. Now, go inside!"

Muttering to herself, Gertrude Hardy turned and flounced back toward the front door.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Laura asked, concerned.

Her tall, black-haired husband nodded. "I'm alright. I landed in a soft pile of snow. Just knocked the wind out of me."

Satisfied, Laura turned and walked back into their warm house.

Raymond Weideman chuckled to himself as he walked back to his half-shoveled drive. He would have liked to have seen Gertrude and Fenton when they were younger. Then he shook his head. It was a wonder how those Hardys could walk away from an accident without a scratch.

Fenton took at deep breath before again climbing the ladder that leaned against the side of the house. In a few minutes, he had the rest of the lights up and working. He put the ladder away and went into the house.

"All finished?" Laura asked him as he brushed at the wetness on his slacks from his fall.

"All finished," he replied as he shed his winter coat and boots.

He sat wearily at the kitchen table. Laura set a mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of him.

The doorbell rang just as he took a sip. Laura headed for the front door.

A moment later, she led a man and a woman into the kitchen.

"Mr. Hardy," the man began. "My name is Luke Sandel and this is my wife Jane. Our daughter is missing and we would like you to find her."

"Let's go into my study."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mr. and Mrs. Sandel seated themselves in the comfortable wing chairs in Fenton Hardy's study.

"This is our daughter Izzie," Mrs. Sandel said, pulling a photograph out of her purse and handing it to Fenton. He looked into the smiling face of a pretty young, blond-haired girl, who very much resembled her mother.

"We discovered that she skipped school yesterday afternoon," Mr. Sandel informed the detective. "She sometimes does so with some of her friends. She usually comes home a bit after school is over so we waited. But she didn't come back. We called her friends and none of them had seen her that day. We then discovered that her clothes, shoes, and several of her other belongings were gone from her bedroom. She hasn't called or e-mailed or anything."

Fenton sat looking at the picture for a minute. "Have you had any arguments with her over something lately?"

The couple exchanged glances.

"Actually we have," Mr. Sandel replied slowly. "She insists on going out with a certain boy but we don't think he is someone she should get involved with and besides, she's much to young.

"How old is she?"

"Fourteen."

"And is this boy the same age-"

"He's twenty."

Fenton whistled. "I see. I take it she didn't agree."

"No, she didn't. I thought that we had come to an understanding though," Mr. Sandel sighed. "We thought that she wasn't seeing him anymore. Do you think she might be with him?"

"I think that it is a possibility," the detective replied. "What is the name of this young man?"

"Dyllan Rycroft."

"Do you have any pictures of him? His phone number? Address?"

Mr. Sandel shook his head. "Sorry, no. All we know is that he lives out of town. We met him once and we didn't think Izzie should be hanging around with him."

"Will you take our case?" asked Mrs. Sandel. "We know that it's a few days until Christmas –"

"That's alright. I'll certainly do my best to find your daughter. Now, if I could take a look at her room…"

"Certainly, certainly," Mr. Sandel said.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Fenton Hardy stepped into Izzie Sandel's second-floor bedroom. The place was messy, but he could see as he stepped closer to the closet and opened the half-closed door that indeed, all the clothes were gone. It looked as though she had been in a rush.

He opened the drawers in her desk one by one, looking under all the papers that were stuffed in each of them. Then he peeked under her bed. He stood up and sneezed three times in a row.

He turned once again to the desk. While he had been on the floor, looking under the bed, something shiny had caught his attention. He discovered a digital camera wedged in between the desk and the wall. He gently pulled it out and turned it on. The message on the screen read that her memory card was full.

He perused through the pictures.

"Find anything?"

Fenton Hardy turned and saw Mrs. Sandel watching him from the doorway.

"Do you recognize anyone in these pictures?" the detective asked, holding out the camera to her. The woman stared at the picture of the young man with her daughter.

"Yes, that's Dyllan."

"There are several others of him."

The mother of the missing girl shook her head as she looked at each picture. "I guess she still was seeing him." She looked up at the tall detective. "We told her that we didn't want her seeing him. We fought over it for days. Then she told us that she wouldn't."

"And she was very angry about it?"

"Yes, very much so. She told us that we didn't know him and that he really was a great person and that she loved him and he loved her." But Luke and I could see that he was not that person. We told her so but she wouldn't listen."

Fenton Hardy nodded as Mr. Sandel came up the stairs and looked over his wife's shoulder at the photographs.

Armed with the photos of Izzie and Dyllan, Fenton was ushered into the office of Bayport Police Chief Ezra Collig.

"What can I do for you today Fenton?" the chief greeted the detective genially.

"I'm tracking a missing girl – Izzie Sandel."

"I see."

"I have a picture of a young man named Dyllan Rycroft. I believe Izzie is with him. I was wondering if you could see if he has a record."

"Certainly. How old is the missing girl?"

"Fourteen. Mr. Rycroft is twenty."

Collig whistled. "I'll be back."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fenton Hardy looked once again at the address on the slip of paper in his hand. It was an address in Southport. He guided his sedan around the corner and began looking intently at the numbers on the houses. He braked lightly when he spotted the number he wanted. He went up and knocked on the door but received no answer. He got back into his car and parked across the street. It was getting dark. He settled himself comfortably in his seat and waited.

***

It was around ten when he spotted a girl walking swiftly down the street with her head down. Her movements indicated that she was upset.

Fenton could not see anyone else around and there had been no movement in the house since he got there.

He looked up and down the street again before getting out of his car and crossing the street.

As he approached her, Izzie looked up.

"Izzie Sandel?"

"Yeah, what do you want?" the girl demanded, looking at the unfamiliar man standing in front of her. She looked up and down the street and realized that they were the only people out."

"My name is Fenton Hardy. I'm a private investigator. Your parents are very worried about you."

"Yeah right," the girl said bitterly. "They don't care about me."

"Oh, I think they do. Where's Dyllan?"

"He's…how do you…do my parents know?"

"They do now. They think that he's a bad influence on you."

Yeah, well they don't know him!" The girl's voice was getting higher. "He's a great guy and he loves me and I love him."

"How well do you know Dyllan?"

"Listen, I have to go," Izzie said quickly and hurried past the detective and up the walk to the front door. She began rooting around in her purse, trying to find her keys.

Fenton sauntered up the walk with his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them warm. His breath was visible in the frigid air.

"Did you know that Dyllan has been arrested for possession of drugs, and breaking and entering?" he asked the girl, who was still frantically searching her large purse. She didn't answer.

"Do you think that running off with Dyllan was a smart thing to do?"

"Yes," the girl replied forcefully, whirling about. "We love each other. My parents just don't know him. If they did, they would see that he is alright."

"Your parents have been around much longer than you have and have seen and experienced many things that you have not. All they are doing is trying to protect you. They saw something in Dyllan that they knew would be trouble and tried to warn you. You haven't been living very well out here have you?"

"Its okay," the girl's voice, now quiet replied.

"Not what you expected?"

Izzie didn't answer.

"You saw a side of him you didn't like?"

Izzie still looked at the ground.

"Come on Izzie. Get you things. We're leaving."

Fenton Hardy glanced over at Izzie who was staring out the window of his sedan. She had not spoken once since they had left the dump that she and Dyllan had called home. They had packed all of he things into the back of the detective's car and Izzie had plopped herself in the front passenger seat without a word. Halfway home, she finally spoke.

"Do you have any kids?" she asked in a meek voice.

"Yes, two sons; eighteen and seventeen."

"Do you think my parents will be mad?"

"I think that they'll be happy that you're safe and even happier if you've learned a lesson from this."

Izzie turned back to the window although visibility was limited with the darkness and snow that was just starting to fall. "I thought he loved me. He said so. But I guess he didn't. He didn't care about how I felt or anything."

"Did he hurt you?"

The girl shook her head. "No."

"So you did realize that Dyllan might be trouble?"

"I guess." There was silence for a few minutes, then, "How did you find me?"

"Your digital camera."

"I was looking all over for that!" Izzie exclaimed, pulling her eyes away from the window. "Where did you find it?"

"In between your desk and the wall. It must have fallen off your desk."

"We were so in a rush to leave and I didn't have any more time to look for it. I knew there were some pictures of Dyllan and me on it. I didn't want my parents to find them and realize that I had been going out with him the whole time they thought I wasn't."

"So, I take it that you won't be seeing him again?"

"No, I won't. I guess he wasn't who I thought he was."

The two drove on in silence.

When they arrived at the Sandel home, Izzie took her time getting out of the car. A few minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Sandel were at the door, hugging their child. Izzie assured her parents many times that she would not be seeing Dyllan Rycroft and that she did realize that she had made a mistake.

"Izzie, there's lots of time for boyfriends," her father told her. "You should just take it slow. Get out and do things before you decide to settle down. And when you do, don't just go with the first guy who says he loves you."

Fenton and Mr. Sandel helped Izzie retrieve her things from Fenton's car and then the detective left the family, only after Mrs. Sandel had thanked him over and over again and made sure that he knew how elated she was over the fact that he was able to find their daughter in less than a day.

When he left, it was still dark and the snow was coming down even harder than before. He had heard earlier that day that the weathermen were calling for a snowstorm. That was partly the reason he had hurried to put up all the Christmas decorations.

The wipers worked hard to keep the thick snow off the windshield. He drove on in silence for a while.

He was crossing a small bridge when the car began to skid. Too late he realized that he had hit a patch of black ice. His vehicle fishtailed. His stomach did a flip-flop when he heard a crunch that was the sound of the guardrail breaking and his car tilted wildly then took a nosedive into the pond.

The detective hit the steering wheel hard. He groaned as the car began sinking. He knew that this wasn't good, but he couldn't stay in the car. He took a deep breath then pushed hard on his door. It opened and freezing water began rushing in. He was soon totally submerged in the ice-cold water. He could hardly breathe for the cold had a grip on his chest. He propelled himself to the surface.

He knew he had to get out of the water fast; but even now it might be too late. He was in the middle of nowhere. He'd be lucky if he found a house.

He swam for the edge of the deep pond. His winter jacket and heavier winter shoes were dragging him down but he was reluctant to shed them. Somehow, he managed to make it to the edge and after a bit of struggling, pulled himself out of the water. With an effort, he pulled himself up, using a nearby tree to support him. He could see that his car was still sinking. His fingers that clutched the tree truck were quickly freezing and he realized that the rest of his winter clothes that he usually brought in the trunk for emergencies were now unsalvageable.

The temperature had dropped considerably and he knew that if he didn't find shelter quickly, he would freeze to death. He began walking to the road. He struggled up the hill from the pond and onto the deserted bridge. He hoped desperately that someone would drive by as he began walking back. He had not seen any houses for a couple miles in the direction he came from so he continued on in the direction he had been initially headed in.

He trudged on for a while, snow whipping around him and he could feel the bite of the wind even more. He was soaked to the skin. He lowered his head and hugged his body in an ineffective attempt to keep himself warm.

All he wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, but he fought to stay awake and keep going, knowing it was his only chance to survive. He stumbled and fell to his knees. He wanted so desperately to go to sleep, but he pulled himself back to his feet and trudged on.

Then he stopped and strained into the distance. Was that a light? He was pretty sure that it was. It seemed to give him a bit more strength. As he kept walking, the light grew stronger. It seemed to take forever, but he was soon looking at a large barn. He could not see a house through the driving snow.

He struggled with the latch on one of the doors with frozen fingers. He finally got it and opened the door. The rough wind blew it closed behind him with a bang. He could hear restless movements and then the neigh of a horse. He heard some chickens and a meow of a couple cats. He walked forward, bumped into something, then fell to the floor. He struggled to keep his eyes open but he felt a comfortable warmth cover his body and he closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

John Williams put on his heavy chore jacket and boots. The storm was raging outside and he needed to check his animals. It was late but both he and his wife were up, watching the storm.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he told his wife Liz Williams and he stepped out the door. The strong wind whipped show in his face and bit at his exposed skin. The snow was drifting higher and higher as the storm raged on. When he came to the barn door, he frowned - he was sure that he had locked the door when he had checked his animals several hours ago. He shrugged, thinking that maybe he had been mistaken, and entered.

He could hear his animals moving around restlessly. He flicked on a light and began walking around, checking the animals. He stopped when he saw a boot on the ground. The first thing that crossed his mind was that he had left a pair of his boots in the barn, then, he realized that he didn't own a pair like that. Slowly and cautiously, he moved closer and gaped at what he saw – a man was lying very still on the floor beside the manger.

The farmer was frozen in place, staring at the mystery man. Then he warily advanced to the man's side and reached out a hand to touch the man's neck. He jerked his hand away, shocked at how cold he was. He thought for a minute that the man was dead, but when he reached out again and touched the neck, he discovered a pulse. He held his hand over the man's nose and mouth and could detect a faint breath. At least the man was breathing.

The farmed knew that he had to get this man inside the house and get him warmed up or he'd die. He gently maneuvered so he could get the man over his shoulder. He carefully stepped out into the storm and made his way to the house as fast as he could, knowing it was life or death for this man.

"John! What's going on?" Liz Williams exclaimed, seeing the unconscious man over her husband's shoulder.

"Found him in the barn. He's soaked to the skin. Run ahead and open the door to the spare room!"

John Williams followed his wife as she ran and flung open the door to the spare room. She helped her husband lay the stranger on the bed.

"Quick, help me pull off his clothes!" John ordered. A pile of soaked clothing quickly began to accumulate in a corner of the bedroom. Liz Williams found a pair of shorts and handed them to her husband while she went to get some heavy blankets. John Williams took the blankets then Liz went to the bathroom to fill some hot water bottles.

"He's so cold," Liz Williams shivered as she placed the hot water bottles, which were wrapped in towels, under the blankets.

John pulled a wallet out of one of the pockets of the soaked trousers. "Huh, says here his name is Fenton Hardy. Hey! _Fenton Hardy_! He's that detective who solved that bank robbery case last week!"

"That's right! It is him!" Liz exclaimed, studying the pale face. "I sure hope he pulls through."

"So do I."

In the Hardy home, at the corner of High and Elms streets, the Hardy family slept…


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Liz Williams sat by the unconscious detective's side, bathing his face with cold water. She pulled his blankets up more. Their patient kept throwing them off in his sleep. After warming up, Fenton Hardy had developed a high fever. About that time, the phone and the power were cut off due to the storm. But fortunately, the farmer had a wood stove to keep their house warm. They melted snow to have cold water to try to keep the detective's fever at bay.

John Williams stepped into the room, concern etching his ruddy features. He set another candle down on the dresser, adding a bit more light in the room.

They watched as Fenton Hardy tossed restlessly in his sleep. He mumbled, but the words were unintelligible.

They wondered how he had gotten out to their farm, wet as he was. They wondered if anyone was out there looking for him at this moment.

John Williams left the room to fetch more cold water. He prayed that Fenton Hardy would make it. He turned back toward to bedroom, hearing the detective's voice again.

"Fra…J…Joe…Fff…"

A pair of blue eyes regarded the room with wary curiosity. He didn't remember ever being in a room like this before. He could make out several lit candles around the room. He shifted his position slightly to relieve a cramped muscle. He had several layers of thick blankets tucked up to his chin and he was only wearing a pair of shorts. He was very confused now.

He rolled his head on the pillow and spotted a woman dozing in the chair beside him.

"Mighty glad to see you finally awake."

His eyes went to the door of the bedroom where a man stood, looking down at him, relief clearly written on his face. "I'm John Williams and that's my wife Liz," he said, indicating the woman, who was now sitting up straighter in the chair and blinking her eyes. "I found you unconscious in my barn early this mornin'. You've been mighty sick."

He remembered now. "Had an accident. Car went off the bridge. Swam…"

The man nodded. "We wondered how you had gotten so wet. But don't try to talk any more. You'd best get some food into you. Liz'll put on some soup. We're just glad you're alright Mr. Hardy."

Fenton Hardy indeed felt terribly weak. He remembered the events surrounding the accident but nothing after he had made it to the barn. He knew that he was lucky that the farmer had discovered him when he did or he might have frozen to death.

The woman named Liz had gotten up and given him a kind smile and left the room to put on the soup.

When the soup was at the right temperature, John propped the detective up with pillows and helped him to feed himself. Fenton couldn't eat much, but was welcoming every sip of the hot soup.

"What time is it?" the detective asked, remembering the farmer had said that he had found him that morning.

"Around eight o'clock p.m."

The detective stared.

"The storm last night was very bad and the electricity and phone lines are still down. The snow is mighty deep and it's still coming down. We live quite a distance from town and the roads haven't been plowed up here yet. As soon as I can, I'll get in touch with your family. Where did you have your accident?"

"On a bridge over a pond."

"Bridge?" The man and his wife looked at each other, surprised. "Why, the only bridge around here is over on Teak Road, and that's-" The big man looked at the detective in astonishment. "That's amazing," he said with a shake of his head. "That's a mighty good distance for someone to walk, soaked to the skin in a snowstorm. But we'd best not exhaust you. Why don't you get some sleep, you look awfully tired."

Fenton agreed and settled himself comfortably back under the covers. Before he drifted off to sleep, he could hear the movements of the couple who had saved his life in the kitchen. He welcomed sleep that took over his body in minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

There were hushed voices coming from the next room. Fenton roused further and strained to identify them. He had no idea how long he had been sleeping. The door to the bedroom was ajar and there was a bit of light. He could hear movement from the other room. Then the voice tones shifted slightly and he could hear several people heading in the direction of his room. The door swung open noiselessly and a head poked into the room.

"Ezra."

Chief of Bayport police Ezra Collig smiled warmly when he saw the detective awake and coherent. "We've been looking for you. I'm glad you're safe. What happened?" he asked gently as he took a seat next to the bed.

Fenton looked toward the doorway and saw Officer Con Riley standing there with the farmer and his wife behind him. He turned back to the chief. Collig had watched the detective's gaze wander to the door and had briefly followed with his eyes but now was looking back at him, waiting to hear his answer.

"I was on my way back home when I hit a patch of black ice on a bridge and my car crashed through the barrier and went into a pond. It sank. I swam for shore, started walking, found a barn, fell down, and I woke up here."

Collig grinned at the short narrative.

"I found him beside the manger," the farmer spoke up.

"How are you feeling?" the chief of police inquired of the patient.

"A little weak, but otherwise fine. What time is it?"

"About noon," Collig replied, glancing at his watch. "When you're ready, we'll take you home."

"Well, I'll need my clothes…" Fenton said, remembering what he was wearing under all the blankets.

"Oh, I've got them right here," Liz Williams said, and disappeared behind the door for a brief moment. She came back holding up some neatly folded clothes. "All washed. Your winter jacket will be out of the dryer in a few minutes."

"Thank you," the detective replied gratefully as his clothes were laid on the foot of his bed.

They all left the room to let him change. When he came out of the room and into the kitchen where everyone was gathered, he was immediately led to a chair.

"Your shoes took a long time to dry," the farmer said to him, pulling out the detective's winter footwear.

Fenton gratefully pulled on all his remaining winter clothes and thanked the couple for his rescue. He was soon settled in the front seat of the squad car.

Collig looked over at his friend's pasty face. He looked so tired. "Its amazing how you managed to walk so far soaked to the skin," he commented.

Fenton smiled tiredly. "I have no idea how I did it either. I just walked; I didn't realize how far I had gone."

When the squad car pulled up in front of the Hardy home, Collig assisted the weak detective out of the vehicle and walked him up to the front door. It flew open and Gertrude exclaimed, "Fenton! Thank goodness you're safe! Whatever happened?"

She moved to one side though, as Chief Collig urged the detective forward into the house. He sank down on the sofa in the living room and leaned back, pushing off his boots and he unzipped his coat.

"What happened?" Gertrude demanded again. Laura appeared in the doorway then rushed for her husband. Frank and Joe came bounding into the room, drawn by their aunt's exclamations.

"Dad!" they both shouted, overjoyed that their parent was safe and sound.

The detective smiled weakly at his sons as they took seats close by.

Chief Collig, knowing his friend was tired, explained to the family what had happened.

"You're lucky you didn't drown!" Gertrude said. You still look ill. Up to bed with you!"

"I'm not complaining," the detective said, pulling himself up with an effort. "I'm just happy that I don't have to spend Christmas in the hospital."

Chief Collig chuckled as he heard Gertrude Hardy clucking all the way up the stairs behind her brother. He knew the detective was in good hands but soon would be ready to run out of the house to get away from all the fussing.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Chief."

The End 


End file.
